Well, it's not going to be easy

The first ten minutes are agony. Patrick stands over you, stone silent, dripping wax at random intervals. You never know when the next stab of pain will come or on what part of your body it will land. You whimper as quietly as you can, massaging your burning skin as the amount of wax that drips from the candle slowly grows.

Patrick instructs Carlos to go next. You feel pain in your feet; it's actually not so bad. In fact, Carlos holds the candle steadily over your left foot for several minutes, and you start to breathe more normally. It doesn't hurt as wax builds on top of wax, and you look Carlos directly in the eye, silently thanking him for his mercy. He can't keep the candle perfectly still, of course, and at times a drop lands somewhere else on your foot. But you can't blame this sweet, sweet boy. You almost thank him for each of those mistaken drops.

Your heat sinks as Thomas takes the candle next. The fat boy instantly drops close to you, rubbing your breasts with one hand while holding the candle over your body with the other. He hardly pays attention to where the wax lands on your soft skin; he's mostly interested in feeling you up as much as possible. He pinches a nipple, twisting just as a large pool of wax falls on your inner thigh. You can't tell where to focus your attention; the pain is coming from too many places at once. You're crying now, and Thomas holds the candle over your face, mixing hot wax with hot tears while he roughly plays with your pussy. The minutes stretch on interminably, and you're surprised when Patrick firmly instructs Thomas to remove his thumb from your vagina. His time is up.

The next hour passes extremely slowly. Dennis experiments with caking your nipples in wax and then peeling the dry wax away. Excruciating. Alex tries to make out with you, squeeze your tits, and stick the candle between your legs all at once. After a few embarrassing failures, he actually manages to work it out, but he has to pass the candle before building too much momentum. Miguel offers a respite just like his twin brother, allowing a small peak of wax to build on your other foot while he gently massages your breasts. You almost welcome his touch because of your gratitude for a break from the pain. Simon and Lawrence arrange a tag-team. One of them holds the candle over your pussy while the other one dangles his cock in your face. When you writhe in pain from your groin, your moans send shivers of joy into the shaft of whichever asshole you're **** to pleasure.

Your last torturer is Arnold, the goofy, athletic black guy. You're shocked when he lies down on the ground next to you, holding the candle flat against your stomach. "How are you feeling?" You realize these are the first words anyone has spoken to you, and all you can manage in reply is some kind of snort mixed with a roar and a grunt. You are breathing erratically, aching everywhere, and dying to get off the filthy ground.

"Shhhh," Arnold breathes into your ear. You feel him take your hand and place it around the base of the candle. You sense that he wants you to hold it, and you comply. He takes your other hand, also wrapping it around the candle. Now the wax is pooling in the top of the candle, only occasionally spilling a drop over your fingers, and Arnold is caressing you all over. Your arms, neck, sides, legs, breasts, pussy. His touch is electric, and surprisingly, your attention is drawn for the first time away from the candle, which remains grounded in the center of your stomach. "I see you," he whispers gently, and you wonder if anyone else can hear. "And I want you to remember this power." As Arnold says this, he rubs your pussy, generating your first sensation of pleasure you've felt since your swim break. Then, as his time nears its end, Arnold slowly gets up. He takes the candle from your hands. And he tips it over. spilling a large pool of hot wax over your tits. You scream involuntarily, shocked at the sudden onrush of pain. Your mind is swimming, trying to reconcile the seeming gentleness with this overt display of control.

Before you can make sense of it, you hear Patrick's voice. "The witness is concluded." He takes the candle from Arnold and blows it out, plunging you and the rest of the surrounding campsite into darkness.